Prince of Peace
by Rothelena
Summary: Christmas fic! Jane and Lisbon, snowed in at a romantic log cabin... unfortunately, things aren't as uncomplicated as they look, and as they spent Christmas together, both have to confront feelings they always tried to deal with on their own. Might have around 3 chapters, maybe more. Rated M in later chapter! Not so much plot- more a contemplation fic!
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, my friends- here is the first chapter of my Christmas fic... I don't think it will be very long, I think maybe two or three chapters… no, that's wrong, more like three. _

_This is some kind of teaser, not very long. I planned it so romantically: Jane and Lisbon snowed in in a freaking log cabin, some delicious smut… well, the angst kept intruding, so this is not a happy little fic. But it will have a happy ending, and it will GO TO M EVENTUALLY, so be warned. _

_There's not much plot involved, it's more like a quiet coming to terms. Just a little hopefulness in times of confusion._

_I don't know how fast I will be able to update, but with four kids and a husband who works for the church I'm insanely busy around Christmas- but chapter two is almost finished, I do my best! Hope you like it… don't expect too much, it's just a silly something! Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist" and I don't make money from fan fiction._

Prince of Peace

Chapter 1

Lisbon looked at Jane out of the corner of her eye. He stared at the giant Christmas tree in the hotel's foyer with an almost childlike fascination, and she couldn't help smiling beneath her breath. No matter what pranks he pulled, how irreverently and mischievously he played her in their investigations- he had something pure, something so deeply innocent about him that she could never stop looking at him.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth to cover up the burst of loss inside her heart, for she had no doubt that the world could see it.

He was taking out his damn cell phone again, no doubt checking the incoming calls for the umpteenth time. The more days went by since he'd last seen Lorelei, the more nervous he got, and she had noticed. There was always the risk that Lorelei wasn't as smart as she and Jane were thinking, that she couldn't escape Red John's wrath.

Lisbon had a strong hunch about what was happening, and she knew Jane was waiting for Lorelei to return to spill the rest of her knowledge about the serial killer she'd adored.

It hurt, and she didn't know why. No, that was wrong- she didn't want to look at the why. She just couldn't, it would make her crumble, she had enough to do with her fear and her worries that one day he would simply leave, without telling her. The day she would have outlived her purpose for him, wouldn't be useful for his chase any longer.

She knew he cared, wasn't a heartless robot who would gladly discard her as soon as he couldn't use her to reach his main goal any longer.

But no matter what happened: Red John was stronger. And there was no way she could bud in there.

To make a bad thing worse, she was embarrassingly jealous, dammit. She had no idea how deep Jane's attraction to Lorelei truly went, but her natural mistrust in her own attractiveness didn't make wondering any easier.

Never in her life had she really wanted to be the pretty little girl. She had flirted, sure, but had never spent her days in front of her mirror contemplating her own looks. Now she did, and no matter how hard she looked- she never liked what she saw. She had confidence in her gun, her tackling abilities, her investigation skills, and most of all her team.

But her talent to look tempting in a dress? Not so much.

She might be able to bear if Jane was falling for Lorelei, but if Red John's ex-minion took him away from her, made him leave the CBI where Lisbon could be close to him? She couldn't tolerate that.

She growled low in her throat, startling the hotel-owner who was still chattering without taking a break, and forced herself to take her silly thoughts from the more than unwelcome topic. She was not a frilly damsel in distress. She didn't need all these complications.

"Jane," she barked, "don't touch that."

He released the shiny golden Christmas bauble he had been fingering, giving her a guilty little smile.

Lisbon looked at the hotel owner and nodded in quiet dismissal.

"That would be all, Mr. Trenton. Thank you for your assistance in our investigation."

"Oh no," the red-faced little guy beamed, "it's me who has to be grateful- you solved the case so fast and discreet, hardly disturbing our everyday procedures. But I still can't believe it, he seemed like such a nice..."

Sensing the next elaborate speech coming, Lisbon interrupted him quickly.

"No problem, Mr. Trenton... we need to go home now. It's two days until Christmas and we have plans."

Plans. She snorted mentally. Hers involved a bottle of red wine, Chinese take-out and bad TV-shows.

"I hope the snow won't give you any problems," Trenton cooed, "it's a LOT this year, I can't remember us getting that much snow in decades..."

Lisbon looked out of an oversized window and knew what he was talking about. The sky was still buzzing with huge white flakes, the ground covered with a knee high layer of pristine snow. It had snowed for days now, and it didn't look like clearing up.

They were in the upmost north of California, but still that amount of snow was unusual. Which was the reason why the team had headed out this morning, while she had stayed to tie some loose ends. Out of an unnamed reason, Jane had insisted to stay, too, and she had grumpily agreed in the end. She didn't like it, though. She wanted the whole team safe and sound in Sacramento- it was Christmas after all.

She said her goodbye to Mr. Trenton and walked over to Jane, who was gingerly touching another delicate glass bauble.

"Jane," she growled, "why can't you just look at it, dammit?"

"It's unbelievable that something so filigree is real, so I need to touch it to make sure. Isn't it beautiful, Lisbon? Why don't you let some Christmas magic into your life?"

When he looked at her, she realized that he didn't have any plans, too. It made her smile sadly at him, out of instinct. They were two lost souls stranded somewhere in the Neverland.

She had tried to reach Tommy countless times, but he was obviously roaming the country with Annie like he often did. Her other two brothers were busy, and it wasn't as if they regularly spent the holidays together. And Jane? He had been lost as long as she knew him.

She resisted the urge to take his hand and pull him after her like a resisting child, and her smile deepened on its own.

"Let's get out of here, before we are snowed in completely."

"Well, that would be a romantic ending to this charming investigation," he chuckled, but followed her willingly.

She knew he didn't really want to stay here-it could make him miss Lorelei's call.

"Charming little settlement." he remarked while they made their way to her car through worryingly huge piles of snow.

Lisbon growled softly. She hated the cold. Maybe this winter was the ideal occasion to travel somewhere hot, to a place where she could take a swim in the lukewarm ocean. She pulled her coat tighter around her shaking frame. Time to go home to the longest soak in the hottest tub humankind had ever known.

The car's interior was freezing, and out of an unknown reason the heater didn't work properly. Lisbon cursed under her breath, which was already forming a white cloud in front of her lips. Winter, Christmas, she was fed up with all of it.

The sight was bad, too many freaking snowflakes everywhere, but she managed to find the right turn with her fine sense of direction. Still, she was nervous and irritated, haunted by a sense of evil foreboding. They were not going to make it. They HAD to make it.

It didn't help to calm her down that Jane was tense and restless, his body poised in anxious expectation.

Snow. SNOW. Still more snow, piling up left and right of the street, taking sight and hearing. She dodged some heaps that almost blocked the street.

Until there was one she couldn't dodge.

She tried once, without success, the tires slithering on the smooth surface. She was about to try again when Jane spoke.

"Lisbon, stop."

She looked at him, breathing harshly.

"If you try again," he said calmly, "you'll get us stuck, and we'll be freezing to death inside this car in no time. Let's turn around and go back to the hotel. Maybe they have two rooms for us, and we can simply wait the weather out."

She knew she pouted, but she couldn't help it, her lips groping for words.

His gaze rested on her, almost peacefully.

"It's not as if any of us had plans for Christmas."

She looked at him, and suddenly felt like crying.

"We can't, we- I have to get us out."

"I know you want to make everything right for everyone but yourself, Teresa. It's the way you're wired. But I'm fine with this. Nothing is waiting for me in Sacramento. Let's turn around. Okay?"

Lisbon fidgeted with the steering wheel, stubbornly refusing to look at him. But in the end, it couldn't be helped. He was right.

With a sigh, she turned the car and headed back to the hotel.

xxxxxxxxxx

They were actually lucky they made it back, and Jane breathed a sigh of relief when he pushed the hotel's front door open to let Lisbon enter first , warmth hitting his icy cheeks.

Trenton waited for them at the reception, his face almost sorrowful. The burly hotel manager didn't hide his feelings one bit, which made him easily readable for Jane.

He gave Trenton a bright smile. It was a lesson he had learned well: never anger someone who could still be useful to you.

"I'm so sorry," Trenton sighed, "street conditions just came in over the radio, I'm afraid you are stuck with us for the next days."

Jane heard Lisbon's low growl behind him, felt her restless energy, her wish to escape the whole situation. He knew how much she'd hate to spend Christmas with him, and he could understand her. Every time she was alone with him, the feelings she had hardly explored yet hurt her more.

And he couldn't help- because he had to pretend to be cold and unfeeling, when he just wanted to burst from the tension. After all these years, he was still the great pretender.

He looked at Trenton and allowed his smile to deepen.

"No problem, Mr. Trenton. It's not as if you could influence the weather. We're okay. Just give us two of your rooms, please, I bet agent Lisbon is rather tired now."

When he looked at her he caught her rolling her eyes, which always made him grin like a little boy. Despite the tangle of complications they dealt with every day she was simply his favorite person. There was no one he felt safer, warmer, more at home with than her.

But he had only this one chance to get his life back on track- through Lorelei. He absently checked his cell phone again. He knew she would call soon, he simply knew it, and his instincts never betrayed him. The notebook with his list of suspects burned a hole into his pocket, and again he had the urgent, unpleasant feeling that he didn't have time for any of this. A snowed-in Christmas with agent Lisbon of all people was the worst possible idea right now.

Trenton still didn't look like a happy little camper.

"I'm... I'm so very sorry, Mr. Jane, Agent Lisbon, but we're packed due to the holidays, I'm afraid... the only accommodation I could offer is one of our log cabins, over there in the hills, within walking distance. The problem is just that there- well, we have only one vacancy at the moment, and the cabin in question has only a single bedroom. But... uhm... the bed is king sized!"

The poor man blushed fiercely, and Jane smiled amicably.

"Oh yeah," Lisbon sighed, "when we're already stuck in this why not doing it right- hand over the keys, Mr. Trenton."

The visibly relieved hotel manager offered the keys and gave them directions. Lisbon marched out of the hotel, giving her perfect backside an enticing sway.

"Come on, Jane. Agent Lisbon is rather tired now."

TBC

_This was only short just the "setting-up" for the story, but more to come soon! I hope you liked it, and please, give me feedback!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, thank you SO MUCH for your more than generous feedback- it really made my day! I hope you won't be disappointed, this is really just a little Christmas-fluff with a happy ending, nothing more. This chapter is still not really M, but we're getting there…_

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist and I don't make money from fan fiction._

Prince of Peace

Chapter 2

Jane flopped down on the couch and buried his face in his hands. He just hoped they both would come out of this unharmed, but he was a little worried. Being so close to her was unbelievably exciting, and he could feel his heart beating faster at the thought of spending the night with her, even if it would undoubtedly be quite a harmless affair.

Lisbon walked through the rooms, passing him by repeatedly, and he couldn't help watching her. He loved looking at her, it had always been one of his favorite things to do, because it was all he had- he'd never dared touching her much, even when the longing had become so strong his hands trembled.

She was thin, but she always was. He was far more worried by the dark, haunted shadows in her eyes, which spoke of the incredible strain she had been under. He knew that much of it was due to him.

He wasn't proud of hurting the one who meant the most to him, but he was used to it by now. It had always been a bad idea to love him. Poor little Teresa.

He always made the mistake to take her for granted, forcing his mind to see nothing but a good friend, but whenever he looked closer he immediately knew that she was more, so much more, and it felt good. In these moments he saw her almost ethereal beauty, the way her slim, lithe body moved with its own grace and confidence. He knew that she didn't see herself as beautiful. She had no idea.

He groaned deep in his throat. He didn't need these feelings, but they were so hot, vivid, addictive, he couldn't resist provoking them again and again. With a sigh he checked his cellphone and found the connection gone. Great.

He leafed through his little notebook again, saw the names connect with faces in front of his mind's eye, but he needed a little more. What if Lorelei didn't reach him and then would never... he calmed himself down with a brisk mental move. She would call again. There was no need to freak out now.

He eyed the neat, small boxes which stood beneath an undecorated fir in the corner and smiled. Damn, it had been a decade since he'd dressed a Christmas tree. Should be fun.

He leaned his head against the backrest and allowed his eyes to close for a moment, wary of everything that was about to come.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon had been close to wearing sweatpants beneath her beloved football jersey, but had then decided against it. He had seen her in the shirt more than once, and hey- they were just LEGS. She wasn't a hysterical schoolgirl, dammit.

She heard Jane rummage in the bedroom and sighed. Why him? Why now, when she was still so unsure of what was happening inside of her, still trying to get over what felt so new and painful? She'd probably been in love for quite a while, but that didn't change anything. When it came to her own emotions, Teresa Lisbon had pretty much always been illiterate. And Las Vegas had brought things to the surface that hurt her every damn day.

And now she was deeply in love with the most impossible candidate, while he was busy obsessing over a cause that had cost him the last ten years. Yeah, ask Teresa Lisbon, the mistress of emotional anguish, for her kind advice. She kicked against the cupboard and stubbed her toe, but swallowed the pain like a boss. She would get through this, dammit, and before she could get into any serious trouble she would be back in Sacramento in her lonely, quiet, boring apartment. Not a big thing, she could do it.

Jane stepped into the bedroom, already dressed in his sleepwear. Lisbon almost groaned audibly.

Nothing screamed as loud "please, rip me off" as Patrick Jane's grandfatherly pajamas. She turned away from him, fidgeting with her toiletry on the drawer, letting the sounds he made wash around her. She heard him getting into bed, grunting and rustling to find the perfect position. He switched the light off.

His voice sounded soft and tired.

"You coming?"

Lisbon sighed and walked over to the bed, gingerly sliding beneath the sheets. She scooted to the outer edge of the mattress, as far away from him as possible.

Damn. The really unfortunate thing was that she wouldn't have had the slightest problem with sleeping next to Rigsby or Cho. She wasn't a squeamish spinster, and sharing a bed with a friend, male or female, wasn't the least bit awkward.

The problem was that her feelings for Patrick Jane were a little more than friendly. Okay, that was a blatant lie. They were a lot more. More like passionate and explosive and dangerous enough to singe her soul.

She shivered.

Worse: he still wasn't sleeping. She could sense his wakefulness behind her, her whole body tensing up from his close proximity.

It was silent for a while, and Lisbon wasn't comfortable at all. She was almost grateful when Jane's soft murmur pierced the heavy wordlessness.

"Can I watch TV?"

She snorted.

"No. I don't feel like lions ripping into zebras tonight. My mood is shitty enough without that, thank you very much."

The silence became oppressive again, and Lisbon knew it would be totally futile to attempt sleeping.

"You're sad." Jane stated calmly, and in that instant, she knew he was right.

Had he asked her, she would have told him that she was pissed, frustrated, annoyed. But it would have been nothing more than another lie and again, he knew her better than she knew herself, the damn bastard.

She was deeply, desperately, thoroughly sad.

"It's another ruined Christmas in a long row of ruined Christmases," she whispered," nothing tells you that you're a miserable loser like spending the season of love alone."

"I'm here."

"Yes- desperately waiting for Lorelei's call. Don't believe I haven't seen you checking your cellphone every twenty minutes since we arrived here."

He sighed.

"It's true. I'm waiting for her to call me. I always believed it would happen around Christmas, when she'll miss her dead sister the most. As soon as she decides to spill her knowledge about Red John she'll have a big target on her back, and I have to hurry to get the information and transport her somewhere she'll be safe."

Lisbon felt her harsh breathing burn in her lungs.

"Will you go with her?"

She could feel Jane's piercing gaze at the back of her head. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"Are you crazy?"

She turned and looked at him. His face was bathed in shadows, but his eyes seemed to glow in the dark. He looked dangerous like this, but she felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame. It was an almost physical sensation, her cells straining to wrap around his. Melt into his essence.

"We're nothing but pawns in your chase for Red John," she said, "means to an end. And right now- you need her more than you need me."

He looked away, and her heart broke a little. She almost smiled, the sad, humorless smile that had become second nature to her.

It became even worse when after endless minutes of tense quiet, Jane fell asleep. And Lisbon got up and cried in the living room for hours, unable to find peace in the tangle of her damn feelings.

xxxxxxxx

When Jane woke up, daylight was all around him. He couldn't believe that he had actually fallen asleep, with this shaking, sad, angry little bundle of pure energy next to him.

It had been so hard not to touch her, to resist wrapping her up in an embrace that would leave her warm and breathless. He wasn't used to giving comfort any longer, and he had felt helpless and raw, refraining to body feedback like a coward.

For in the end, he couldn't tell her. Couldn't say the words she needed to hear. They were locked in his heart, and that's where they would stay until the dawn of a new life was breaking. A life without Red John. A time when he could finally allow himself to heal, heal in the arms of his angry little princess, the woman who owned his soul.

But he couldn't tell her. Not now.

He got up with a groan, cold air washing all around him. Lisbon had opened the window, and he cursed slightly when he slammed it shut. Well, nothing a hot shower couldn't fix.

He grabbed his washing bag and walked into the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks before he even crossed the threshold.

Lisbon stood under the shower, and she hadn't bothered closing the door of the transparent shower stall, deliberately spraying water everywhere. Her eyes were closed, her long hair sticking wetly to her skin, and Jane had to remind himself to take a breath before he passed out.

Damn, she was perfect. Pale, creamy skin, looking as soft and pure as marzipan. A waist so small it almost seemed like an optical illusion, in fact she was tiny all over, looking like a precious porcelain doll with hips. Her shoulders were lightly freckled, giving away her Irish heritage, her breasts not big, but full and firm. Her hip bones were perfectly sculpted, leading his gaze to the region between her legs, sparsely covered with soft brown curls.

He was hard in an instant, swallowing drily. He ordered his body to retreat, wanting to spare her the mortification when she caught him staring like this, but he couldn't move.

In that exact moment, before he could do anything, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. He would have expected her to shriek and desperately try to cover herself, but she did no such thing. She simply stood there, lifting her arms over her head to smooth her hands through her wet hair, her eyes gliding lower to his groin, where he knew she saw something that had to catch her attention. The smirk he expected never came, her gaze stayed calm and composed.

It was as if things had been so raw between them for so long that social rules didn't apply any longer.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a big towel she wrapped around her wet body.

She passed him by without the slightest emotional reaction.

"Your turn, Jane."

After the coldest shower of his life, Jane walked into the living room, fully dressed, still feeling shaken. That had been the most awful erection he'd ever had, almost impossible to get rid of, and his thoughts had returned to Teresa Lisbon's perfect body again and again, tempting him to surrender until all he wanted was to scream with sexual frustration.

Lisbon stood in the kitchen, dressed, flawless. She looked at him and licked something sticky from her fingers.

"Hazelnut spread," she said, lifting the open jar, "hmmmmmmmmm."

Jane smiled. It was one of the smiles he only reserved for her, and they always felt so good on his face, warm, honest, sweet.

"You sure you don't want to put that on a piece of bread, by-the-book agent Lisbon?"

"Not today." She shrugged, scooping more chocolaty stuff up with her finger before she extended her hand in his direction.

Oh, no no no no no. That was a notoriously bad idea, he absolutely shouldn't... he grabbed her wrist and put her finger into his mouth, slowly licking the sweet spread off.

He saw something stir in her eyes, something he'd always known was there. He noticed how new it was for her, how much she was still asking, searching, and how much the strength of her feelings for him still scared her. He knew the feeling so well. He'd lived with it for quite some time now.

"Breakfast?" he whispered, but she just shook her head.

"Not really hungry."

"Come on," he groaned, "I'll prepare something tasty."

He turned and took some eggs out of the fridge, busying himself with the breakfast. He managed to ignore her for quite a while, until he couldn't bear it any longer and simply had to look.

She knelt on the couch, looking out of the window, her long dark hair like a fluffy cloud around her head. She was so breathtakingly beautiful he could barely swallow a gasp.

She pursed her lips slightly, as if she wanted to blow the snowflakes off the sky, and he smiled, his knees weak with tenderness.

It was true- he waited for Lorelei's call. He hadn't lied when he'd told Lisbon he'd always thought she would call now, around Christmas, the time for loneliness and bad memories of one's own failing. And now he might miss this call, because he was stuck with this perfect little nymph who made him feel so many unwelcome things.

It was nothing like the attraction he felt for Lorelei, who was a gorgeous woman and had been the first woman he'd been intimate with after Angela's death. But that was nothing against his feelings for Teresa Lisbon, his heart, his soul, his salvation. The raw whip of his emotions made him shiver, and he felt tears spring to his eyes.

She couldn't know how much he wanted, desired her. How everything inside him screamed for a new beginning with her, a happily ever after in a small house close to the ocean. Him and her. There was nothing more he needed.

He shut the love down, he was good at that. He just had to survive the few days until they could leave this place, had to suffer through a Christmas with Teresa Lisbon without touching her. Then everything would be fine.

He should see the positive in the situation: at least he got to look at her all the time, without any distraction of his unforgiving, harsh real life, lost in his sparkling fantasy of spending the rest of his days with Teresa Lisbon. Hers forever.

"Doesn't look like letting up?"

"No," she pouted, "looks as if this could go on for weeks."

"Don't worry, Lisbon, everything will be alright. Eggs?"

"Okay."

She headed over to the small dinner table and sat down like an obedient little girl, waiting for him to set the plate down in front of her.

He could see the thoughts churning in her mind, the hurt and desperation of a sleepless night, the fear of losing him. Always the fear of losing him. He had done this. Had done it with his six-month-stint in Las Vegas, had made her see these feelings she hadn't even known she had. Nothing to make you realize you're in love than missing your loved one like hell, like a physical pain that wouldn't go away.

He chewed his eggs carefully, looking at her, his precious princess. Her will was like steel. Whenever she showed him a weakness, he felt this relentless perseverance inside her trying to take over again. She was a born fighter, but for once, he didn't want her to fight.

"Lisbon," he said softly, "can't we call a truce for this Christmas? Agree that we don't make this more complicated than it already is? I'm here. You're here. I want to spent these days with you. Not fight against... things that are so big that we can't conquer them."

She looked at him, and he realized that her eyes were the most beautiful thing in his life. In this moment, he would have given his left arm to be her prince Charming and make everything alright with true love's kiss.

But his true love for her was caged. And it had to stay that way.

"I don't know if I can, Jane," she whispered, "I'm still hurt, and I don't seem to be able to heal this time."

He almost reached out and took her hand before he reminded himself that this was exactly what he wasn't allowed to do: touch. He pulled back as if burnt, and in her eyes he saw that she had noticed.

"Will you try?" he asked, gentling his voice even more.

"It's not good to be this close to you. It's the worst possible idea right now."

"Let's pretend we're still just good friends."

She laughed a humorless laugh.

"Yeah. Because I'm super great at pretending."

xxxxxxxxxx

They finished their breakfast in silence, both busy with keeping their composure.

After he had cleared the plates, Jane started to rummage through the boxes next to the still bare Christmas-tree, unearthing all kinds of decorations. He looked so submerged in the task, reacting to every little thing he took out with unadulterated glee, and Lisbon couldn't help all the smiles and the softening inside her heart, until she finally sat down on the couch and stared at him without shame.

He smiled at her, content and natural, and his quiet happiness made her calm, too.

She hated things like decorating trees, she didn't have the patience to work with all these flimsy, fragile stuff, untangling the chains of light and glitter, choosing the right thing for each tiny spot.

But Patrick Jane didn't show the slightest insecurity, his movements were sure and swift, and she watched him like the magician he was.

"I wonder why they haven't decorated the tree for the guests," she said eventually.

He smiled at her, one of the huge, warm-hearted smiles that never failed to unsettle her.

"Maybe because it's loads of fun to do it yourself. You should try it, Lisbon. It does miracles for the nerves."

"I don't have nerves." she growled, which earned her a merry chuckle from her consultant.

"Sure you don't. That's why you slept so peacefully last night."

Lisbon shuddered under the memory of her lonely hours on this very couch, crying like a little girl. This wasn't her, dammit. He had come into her life at the most unfitting of times, stealing her heart when she had always thought that she had protected it so well.

She didn't reply anything, not trusting her voice to stay composed. This would for sure be the most nerve-wrecking Christmas she'd ever experienced in her life, and she wasn't looking forward to it.

Jane decorated the branches of the tree one by one, putting up colorful glass baubles and rows of glittery gold, tastefully arranging the items with his long, beautiful fingers, turning fragile little things until they were exactly as he wanted them.

Lisbon watched, mesmerized and slightly sleepy at the same time, and when she finally succumbed to the exhaustion that still lingered from last night and fell asleep, dreams came of Patrick Jane's hands and lips, their touch infinitely soft until she couldn't find them anymore in the endless dark around her, frantically searching for him inside a room which walls she couldn't make out.

She woke up slightly breathless and found his face very close to hers, his eyes staring at her with an eerie kind of quiet concern. She blushed instantly, not able to hide the reaction.

He had covered her with a soft, fluffy blanket, and she was toasty warm beneath it. It was no surprise that the tree was fully decorated, the lights illuminating the darkened room with their soft glow.

He smiled.

"It's late afternoon, dear- you slept away the whole day. Since we already skipped lunch, I made us an early supper and baked some bread for later."

"You baked some BREAD?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," he said, already busy setting the table, "I'm quite partial about my bread."

"Oh well, aren't you the perfect little house fairy..."

"You'd be surprised, Lisbon," he answered, putting a pot on the table that emitted a smell too delicious for words, "I am."

He paused for a moment, looking on the ground in quiet contemplation.

"In fact, it's been quite a while since I've been caring for a home. It's actually not a bad thing to do at Christmas."

He looked at her, and she just wanted to run to him. Just three or four days, their own little moment in time and space, even if it never returned. What harm could come out of three days of pleasure?

But she knew better. Even one stolen moment could destroy her life, could render her a worthless emotional wreck unable to function any longer. She had her spot in life, and it was police work. Despite the fact that he solved almost all her cases, she was good at it. Her team needed her. She couldn't risk it, not when every moment, he could be gone again, when there was still not a hint of a promise to be expected from him. She couldn't give herself up for a fantasy.

Losing him would cripple her anyway, but there was no need to make it worse. She swallowed the traitorous longing on a shivery breath.

"That smells delicious," she croaked.

"Try it." He answered and handed her a spoon, and Lisbon got up to do just that, knowing the taste wouldn't disappoint her.

After supper they found out that the TV wasn't running, most likely due to the severe weather. The snowfall had stopped for the moment and the night was bright and clear, but Lisbon didn't trust the peace. The pure blanket of snow was deep and soft-looking, and when Jane took out his cellphone to check his calls again, cursing slightly when he no doubt found it out of working order, too, Lisbon stepped out into the night without hesitating.

She hadn't brought a coat, so it didn't take long for the cold to bite into her skin. She didn't care. The sharpness of the sensation grounded her, and it was cold enough that she didn't dare to cry, which offered some strange kind of relief.

The stars were as bright as the lights on their tree, the sky a flawless dark blue, like some kind of kitschy Christmas card.

Her teeth started chattering, and suddenly Patrick Jane's arms wrapped around her from behind, making her breath catch in her throat. He wrapped his overcoat around both of them, shielding her goose bump-covered arms from the harsh cold.

She felt him shudder behind her, and when she felt the pressure of his erection against her back she knew he wasn't shaking from the freezing temperatures. She forced the air in and out of her lungs and felt her body like she hadn't in years, every single sensation, the hairs standing on end, her skin puckering in expectation of his touch. Breathing so fast, heartbeat thundering. Arousal wetting her panties.

"Look, Lisbon," Jane whispered, his breath warming her icy cheeks, "a falling star. That means you're granted a wish. Close your eyes and think about what you want the most."

And Lisbon smiled, closed her eyes and started to pray for a miracle.

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Jane stubbornly stayed on the couch until it was so late Lisbon simply had to retire, letting the conservation go stale to make sure she would really go.

He felt raw from her closeness, the flowery fragrance she left everywhere, on his clothes, his skin even. He needed a break, needed some time alone to compose himself, or the hunger for her touch would devour him.

When he closed his eyes, he saw things he had no business dreaming about. He needed her as far away as possible to regain his equilibrium.

But when she finally left, he found that he couldn't let her go, that he wanted to cling to her like the bleeding soul he so carefully hid.

He walked into the bedroom and found her sitting up in bed, reading. They stared at each other, but her gaze was gentle and calm. It soothed his frayed mind like only she could.

"Do you want me to shave for Christmas?" He asked casually.

He knew he shouldn't do it. Shouldn't play the "married couple"-game with her, shouldn't hint at an intimacy he couldn't allow. It made him dream, made him hope, but he couldn't help it. Something inside him softened to mush whenever he was close to her, and he just wanted to get closer.

He saw her gaze slide over his face, pausing at his jaw.

"Yes." she said softly." I would like that."

He nodded solemnly, as if they had sealed some kind of deal.

"Okay. I'll shave in the morning."

He lingered for some time, and he knew she noticed. He wanted to sit on the mattress and watch her fall asleep, use the protection of darkness to touch her glorious hair. She looked small and angelic in her over-sized football jersey, and he couldn't stop looking at her.

He saw her start to worry, knowing he behaved strangely. Her gaze was so soft and tender in her concern for him, he always felt cherished and worthy. No one made him feel like she did, and a shudder ran down his spine. He didn't want her to worry for him. He wanted her happy and safe.

"Are you okay, Jane?" she asked, her voice sweet and gentle.

He nodded.

"Just not tired yet. Go to sleep, Lisbon. I'll read on the couch for a while so I won't disturb you."

Her slight disappointed pout told him that she wouldn't mind having him next to her, but he ignored the violent clenching of his traitorous heart.

He closed the door quietly, as if she were already sleeping, scared to stir emotions which felt strong enough to kill him at the moment.

He sat down on the couch with an exhausted sigh, taking out his little black notebook. He knew the answer was somewhere inside his own memory palace, he just had to walk it again and again and he would eventually see it. He pondered every single name on his list once again, tracing his memories for anything strange he might have overlooked.

But the fantasy of Lisbon pushing her tiny hands under his clothes stubbornly kept intruding.

TBC

_More in a few! Chapter 3 isn't written yet, but I'll be on it tomorrow! Thank you for still reading my stuff!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay… this chapter is over 6000 words, but I didn't want to make two parts of it because in that case, the 4__th__ chapter would only contain smut… and I didn't want to make you wait until tomorrow. I hope it's okay that way._

_Thank you so much for your relentless encouragement, I'm exceedingly grateful!_

_I hope you like this story._

_Little warning: This chapter is M, and it is very, very M! No idea where all the smutty ideas came from after the fairly tame beginning of this story, but hey… here they are. If you don't like smut, DON'T read this! Don't think: "Oh, this starts so Christmassy and sweet, how bad can it be?" Believe me: I can do BAD ;D! So if you don't read M-stories on a regular basis- this might not be the ideal one to start!_

_I apologize for any OOCness, although I'm not really sorry- I always like to take the characters to places they haven't been before, and about what they'll be doing there, I'm pretty much just guessing. My favorite pastime, as some of you know, is making Jane lose control… because he has far too much of it for my liking ;D._

_Okay- here it is, the giant last chapter of this story! Feel free to read it in snippets if it's all too much ;)._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist, and I don't make money from fan fiction._

Prince of Peace

Chapter 3

When Lisbon woke up in the morning, she found herself all alone in a much too big bad. She sternly scolded herself for the tiny bereft feeling in her stomach.

She had spent the brunt of her nights alone, and now she felt like tearing up because Patrick Jane hadn't joined her?

She got up and opened the window, the cold air the final wake-up call she needed. Still the world was filled with blinding white, a new bout of flurries starting to rush from the skies. She groaned. They definitely wouldn't leave before the holidays were over.

She took a quick shower and dressed hurriedly, her mind busy with the by now almost familiar cocktail of feelings and thoughts when she walked into the living room. Patrick Jane lay on the couch, still fully dressed, asleep. The little black notebook with his personal suspects' names lay open on his chest.

Lisbon felt a surge of anger shoot up inside her without being able to control it. Part of her wanted to take the book and tear it to pieces, douse it with gasoline and burn it to a crisp before she jumped up and down on the sorry remains.

Jane was constantly obsessing these days, the lightness was gone, and he was much too occupied to really spend time with her. When did they last have dinner together? She couldn't remember, but before Lorelei had come into his life, they had spent at least one evening per week at a cozy restaurant, contemplating all kinds of things together. Now he sat in his attic every night, pondering the names on the stupid list.

She couldn't even be openly mad at him. She had always known that Red John came first in his life, so how could she complain now for being a bad second place in his life? Third even, since Lorelei came along.

She groaned in pain. Childish thoughts. But she'd never been that much in love, so this was all pretty new to her.

She went into the bedroom and took a fluffy blanket from the drawer, covering him with it from his chin to the toes. She left the notebook where it was, knowing he would freak out when he woke up and didn't find it where he had put it.

Then she grabbed her overcoat and walked out into the stark white snowy desert.

It felt good to feel the fresh air on her skin, even if it was cold enough to make her flinch at first. When she finally reached the hotel, she had no doubt her cheeks and nose were as red as they were cold.

The foyer was buzzing with life and activity, all the guests were snowed in, and shopping in one of the countless little store was pretty much the only mainstream entertainment when one was fed-up with being pampered at the spa.

Lisbon roamed the shops, trying to find the perfect thing, until she finally ended up at the jeweler. The owner looked like Santa himself, all white beard and ruddy cheeks, and Lisbon found herself smiling. Slowly, she found herself getting into a Christmassy mood. It was Holy night, and she wasn't alone, but together with the man she loved. So what if they couldn't really be as close as she wanted to because they were confused about everything and maybe he didn't love her at all? He was with her now, and if that was all she had, she would enjoy it as long as it lasted.

The Santa-look-a-like smiled brightly at her, and she found a spark of actual happiness deep inside her, right next to the tight knot of fear, worry and anguish. The price of her love.

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When she came back, she found Jane in the bathroom, sitting on a chair in front of the sink, his upper body bare. He was soaping his cheeks and jaw, humming low under his breath.

Lisbon stood in the doorframe, watching him silently. She realized that she had never seen him without a shirt despite the one time when she had rescued him from the pond where he'd nearly drowned, and of course she hadn't really paid attention then.

She did now, and it was enough to redden her cheeks further. His muscles were strong and firm without being over the top, he was more lean than muscular. His skin looked golden and soft, he wasn't half as pale as she was, and her fingers instantly itched to touch him.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Errands."

"You could actually help me, Lisbon. It's nice when someone else does the shaving."

She had no idea if that was true, but she had shaved her father often when his hands had trembled too much from all the alcohol to do it himself, so she wasn't new to the whole procedure.

"Okay."

Jane pushed his chair away from the sink to give her room, and she stepped between his spread legs. Suddenly the air was burning with electricity, and the quiet contentment she had felt only minutes before was gone.

She took the razor, making sure that her hands didn't shake. She didn't want to hurt him. Slowly, carefully, she dragged the blade over his skin. He raised his face, offering her his throat, and it felt strangely erotic, making her insides churn with excitement. Maybe because he trusted her enough to present one of the most vulnerable parts of her body to her without a hint of hesitation. She saw his pulse hammer at the side of his neck and knew it wasn't fear. He licked his lips, again and again, his light green eyes fastened on her face. Her cheeks burned.

"Don't do that," she said softly, "you'll get soap into your mouth."

"Sorry." He breathed.

She pushed her left hand into his hair to hold his head in place, all the while continuing to shave him, not noticing that she moved closer and closer until his incredibly hard erection dug into her thigh. She paused, but only for a second before she continued calmly, occasionally cleaning the razor in the small puddle of water he had left in the sink. She watched his fine blond beard hairs sink to the ground before she turned and continued, guiding the blade over his exposed throat. His Adam's apple moved when he swallowed, and she involuntarily rubbed her leg against his hard-on.

His breath was fast and shivery, and she leaned down, her lips only inches from his. His pupils dilated enormously. She finished the procedure and made sure she hadn't missed a spot before she took the towel he had warmed on the heater to wipe off the rest of the soap.

"All done," she whispered," and I didn't nick you once."

She gently stroked over his smooth, warm skin, her fingers lingering on his lips for a few precious seconds.

Then she stepped back, coughing to clear her blocked throat, and walked out of the bathroom, taking her overcoat on her way out the front door, desperate to cool off fast.

She stood on the tiny veranda, her arms wrapped around herself. Dammit, she wanted him. Wanted him. Wanted him more than she had wanted anything in her life. She remembered the falling star she had seen. Dammit. She wanted him. So much.

Unfortunately, she couldn't make the final step- it was his to decide, and she had no doubt that while she obviously managed to arouse him, she wasn't his foremost concern at the moment.

Love? Lisbon was not arrogant enough to assume that he truly loved her... even if he did, there was too much debris piled on top of his feelings for anybody, maybe too much for him to ever resolve the matter. Maybe he would never be able to love again. A stray tear froze on her cheek, and she angrily wiped it away.

At least, she had learned what real love felt like- that was something, wasn't it?

Better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all.

Wasn't that how the saying went? She snorted. Right now, this whole love-thingy hurt like hell. She'd always thought that she was a woman who got over love-sickness tremendously fast. Stupid her. She just had never realized that that hadn't been LOVE.

This was. And it burned inside her like acid.

She took several calming breaths and felt just composed enough to go back inside when a snowball hit her square in the face. It was loosely packed and didn't really hurt her, but she gasped from the cold and the shock, staring at a laughing, fully dressed Patrick Jane only some feet away from her.

"Jane!" she yelled, "Stop this immediately, I'm not in the mood for..."

The second snowball hit her shoulder.

She growled.

"That's the last warning, you jerk, or I..."

Another direct hit on her face.

"You wait," she roared, already bending down to retrieve as much snow as she could with two hands.

She was much better at hitting her target than he was, and she aimed to kill. Three snowballs hit him directly on the face in rapid succession, which didn't quench his laughter one bit.

The fight escalated fast. Lisbon felt her tension boiling up until she exploded, all the frustration, the worries, the fear, wanting him and loving him and being scared of losing him all the time, it made her wild with frenzy, and she channeled the poisonous cocktail into the fight.

Jane laughed like mad, but he seemed to notice what happened to her, so he didn't put up much resistance, simply letting her bombard him with snowballs. He didn't even try to protect his face , and the snow hit him everywhere, soaking into his clothes, cooling his skin.

When he finally surrendered and sank into the snow, lying on his back giggling like a little boy, Lisbon suddenly became scared. She rushed to his side, kneeling down swiftly without thinking.

His hair, his face, the collar of his shirt, everything was wet, and although he was still smiling his teeth started to chatter.

She stroked his icy cheeks, every hint of anger replaced by the tender worries for him.

"Get up, Jane," she hissed, "your clothes are drenched, you're gonna get sick, dammit!"

He snorted, but allowed her to help him up.

"I never get sick, woman."

She led him inside and was already peeling him out of the wet clothes when self-consciousness set in.

His overcoat, jacket and vest lay discarded on the floor, his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his naked chest, red and blotchy from the cold. He was staring at her, his gaze wild, a little feverish, all humor gone, but he also seemed to be a little scared, as if he were brought into a situation he couldn't quite understand.

She backed off, all the invigorating courage leaving her, she could almost feel her face going pale. She looked down on the ground, feeling miserable and lonely all of a sudden. She didn't have this kind of privileges, and she had no right to corner him. She was good at denying herself the things she craved, she'd never been a seductress like Lorelei Martins.

Teresa Lisbon swallowed the pain and went on. It was what she'd always been doing, every second of her life. Sometimes the emotional mess she fought seemed so huge that it felt like living on a giant dump of hurt and rejection and endless disappointment. A pile of crap that would swallow her one day.

She looked at him, and knew she couldn't hide her longing. It couldn't be helped.

"Maybe you should take a hot bath. I... try to fix us something for dinner, okay?"

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Jane soaked in the hot bath, confused and hurting. For the first time in quite a while, he absolutely didn't know what to do.

So what if he acknowledged what was between them, acted on these forbidden feelings that had been secretly swirling all around them for years now?

Mind-blowing passion. Hours and hours of explosive sex. He grew hard again, sighing in defeat while he wrapped his hand around his length and stroked lazily.

The problem was that Teresa Lisbon was the exact contrary of a one night stand. She was the love of his life he'd never expected to find again.

He cursed under his breath.

He could easily lie about his feelings, concentrate on Red John even more, hurting himself as much as he hurt her.

His angel. His hope, the only light he had in his miserable life. Purity he didn't deserve. The gentle heart he searched out in his moments of deepest despair.

He felt like crying.

He didn't want to hurt her. But what would the consequences be if he opened the door to his heart now?

He got out of the tub and dried himself carefully, taking so long he almost annoyed himself. When he was dressed in a new suit he took a deep breath and walked into the living room, trying to adopt his usual calm, slightly arrogant demeanor.

"How long will dinner be?" He flinched slightly when he swallowed the tender endearment he'd almost spilled at the last second.

He was a love-sick fool.

"Maybe an hour," she shrugged, "it's not that late yet."

"Great. I have something to do over at the hotel- I'm back within the hour."

He waved casually and headed out briskly, grabbing his overcoat on his way out. He sighed when he wrapped it around him. Lisbon had put it on the heater to dry, and it was deliciously warm now, protecting him perfectly on his way to the hotel.

It felt wonderful to have her care for him, and the thought that she would always be out there worrying for him warmed him even better than the toasty coat.

A lot of people were around, and he realized that he hadn't missed crowds at all. He could get used to a solitary life with Lisbon, just him and her, always. He had never noticed this longing for a home until now, but she made him feel all kinds of things. His love for her came in so many shades, and he wasn't surprised that earth-shattering desire was one of them.

His beautiful woman. Only she wasn't his. But- he could still be hers, no matter what life brought them. He ended up in front of a tiny jeweler and went inside on a whim. The white-bearded owner looked friendly and open, just like the Coca Cola Santa Claus.

Jane smiled. He would stop making excuses. He would give Lisbon what she wanted most. Everything he could.

He took a deep breath.

"Can you engrave something for me right now?"

The jeweler smiled and took out the engraving iron.

"I'd say I'm pretty handy with this thing." He said, "What would you like me to engrave?"

xxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon couldn't stop smiling like a silly fool.

Her first stuffed Turkey. And it looked good!

She had tried to do everything just as the recipe book she'd found on the cupboard said. Hmmm, it smelled delicious. She rubbed her hands in glee. So she wasn't as useless as she'd thought when it came to all the things Christmas.

She whistled happily while she set the table, and was almost shocked at the burst of sheer pleasure that spread over her insides when Jane walked into the room.

He was back. The distance he'd had in his eyes when he'd left an hour ago was gone, and his smile was warm and open. She felt his gaze slide down her frame, his eyes going wide with appreciation.

She had put on the only dress she had taken, just because Trenton had told them there would be a Christmas reception where they might have to make an appearance during the investigation. That had never happened, they had solved the crime long before that- but the dress was still there.

It wasn't too spectacular, with a halterneck-top, hazel-green silk, but the color matched her eyes, and it felt good on her skin.

He stepped directly behind her, making her startle when his breath fanned over her skin.

"I look like a beggar next to you." He whispered softly.

"On the contrary," she chuckled," you're overdressed most days of the year- tonight, you're perfect."

He smiled and pressed a tiny kiss on her shoulder- just a short peck. She felt it all the way down to her toes.

It was scary. If he continued like this, she would be a mess of sheer sexual frustration when she finally went to bed. She shuddered slightly.

Her turkey WAS good. It was almost ridiculous how proud she was, but she had never been a great cook, and this just felt good. Jane complimented her repeatedly, and she just glowed in the night and the happiness and the fact that despite all the mess, she spent this day in exactly the RIGHT company. No matter what happened, she would always remember this.

Conversation was easy and light, and it was this familiarity that made her teary. Why did she have to be so greedy? She wanted this every night. Wanted him as a reliable part of her life. She swallowed the huge lump that formed in her throat and tried to smile, but there was no deceiving Patrick Jane. He saw everything.

He got up slowly and cleared the plates, wrapping the leftovers in tinfoil for the fridge before he came over and extended his hand in invitation.

"Let's retreat to the couch," he said, "it's time for your gift."

"But, there won't be any gifts until..." she looked at the watch over the fireplace," oh my god, where has all the time gone?"

It was well after midnight, technically already Christmas morning.

"Merry Christmas, Teresa," he whispered, and for a moment she thought he would really, really kiss her, making her wish come true.

But he changed direction at the last second, and his lips landed on her cheek. She couldn't help the short pang of disappointment but got back on track fast. They weren't... like that. And no matter how much she wished for him- life wasn't a pony farm, and she had to accept it. She smiled up at him, and when he smiled back her heart almost tore in half, for he was just so beautiful, the blond hair gleaming in the soft candlelight, his lips so pale and inviting.

Focus, Agent Lisbon. He's not yours, remember?

They sat down next to each other on the couch, and Jane switched on the lights of the tree.

Lisbon rolled her eyes at him.

"Wow," she said, "now we're truly living the American Christmas dream."

He chuckled.

"How does it feel?"

She grimaced.

"Odd."

Jane took her hand, interlacing her fingers with his.

"About your gift," he started, but she interrupted immediately.

"No, I want to give you yours first."

He seemed surprised, but said nothing while she retrieved the little box from the bedroom. She had wrapped it in golden paper, but the closer her steps carried her to him, the more insecure she got.

Dammit, she wasn't a coward. She would get this over with now.

She tentatively handed him the gift.

Jane took it as if it where something holy, extremely fragile, all the time looking intently at her. When his fingers touched hers, the box sliding into his palm, she had to look away.

xxxxxxxxxx

He opened the parcel carefully and found a golden locket inside, with a thick chain that was clearly not made to wear it around the neck, but inside a vest pocket. The engraving read "Yours forever." When he opened it, there was Lisbon's picture.

"It's not a great picture," she said softly, "I'm not especially photogenic. But if you decide to go with Lorelei to catch Red John, I want you to have something to remember me by."

"You think I could forget you?"

She looked at him, and in her eyes shimmered more sadness than he could bear.

"Yes. I think you could if you wanted to."

He cursed himself, cursed that he always hurt the ones he loved most. He was a monster. A soul destroyer.

But at the same time, he cursed himself because he wasn't cold enough. Because he had truly, deeply, madly fallen in love again.

He let the locket slide into the pocket of his vest and leaned back, taking a huge effort to make his face impassive. The clock was ticking, and it felt like a countdown, an ultimatum. He could go on like this and hurt her more. Thank her for her gift with a fake smile, and joke over the awkward silence that would follow. Get back to normal as soon as he could manage. Keep his sole focus on catching Red John.

He looked at her, and knew she was the most wonderful, the most perfect thing in his life. And all he truly wanted for Christmas. The realization almost shocked him. But in the blink of an eye, the decision he had already made at the jeweler seemed unavoidable. And he wanted it. Wanted to do this right now.

"When you wished upon the falling star yesterday- what was it you wished for?"

She sighed miserably.

"Never mind."

"Shall I guess?"

"No."

He slid to his knees in front of her, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

Suddenly, he felt unable to lie at her at all, and it felt scary and relieving at the same time.

"I love you, Teresa Lisbon. I will never allow anything to stand between us. I won't go with Lorelei. I swear. And even if I have to leave for a while sometime in the future, I promise that I'll always come back to you. As soon as I can, running miles through cold and darkness just to hold you in my arms again. I swear, do you listen? I know it's crazy, I know it will make everything more complicated, but I SWEAR. Because I love you."

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Lisbon's breath caught in her throat. His face came closer, closer, until she could almost, just almost taste his lips, and when he paused, she wanted to scream in frustration. He hesitated so long that she was scared he would pull away once again, would leave her aching and unfulfilled, but just when she started to give up hope, he covered the last hint of distance and pressed his lips onto hers.

The kiss exploded on her taste buds in a million delicious detonations, the need for him so huge it hurt everywhere. His taste was clean and warm and uniquely him, and she knew she would never be able to let him go. No matter what happened, she would fight like a lioness for him, down to her last breath, would save and protect him no matter what kind of trouble he would get into. He was the most important thing in her life, had been for years now without her really realizing, and nothing could ever exceed this.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but he pulled back and sat down next to her on the couch, pulling her into his lap so that she straddled his thighs, facing him.

He looked at her, his eyes moist, and she knew how much this meant for him as if they'd had some kind of telepathic connections. He was in fact moving on, after a decade of hate ready to love again, and although he undoubtedly still wanted to catch Red John, something fundamental had changed.

She kissed him, wanting to chase the dark shadows from his eyes, and almost squealed in delight when his arms wrapped around her in a full-bodied embrace, holding her so tight he pushed the air out of her lungs. She didn't care, she was drowning in his kisses anyway, his taste wrapping around her senses one more, melting into her essence to never leave her again.

She softly broke away to look at his slightly parted, kiss-swollen lips and half-hooded eyes , his pupils dilated with arousal, before her fingers slid over his shirt, his vest, finding the firm bulge of his hard-on.

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Jane shuddered like a leaf. His erection was already growing out of his waistband, and Lisbon kept stimulating him, rubbing his hard flesh through his pants, teasing the tip with her naughty fingernails.

He squirmed and twitched, so aroused he felt on fire, but he couldn't stop her. She was so into it, her eyes wide with lust and fascination, her face so close to his he could inhale the addictive scent of her creamy skin. He knew that at this rate, he would come like a fiend in seconds, spilling his seed onto his clothes, ruining a perfectly fine suit. He didn't care at all.

Lisbon's dainty fingers opened the button on his pants, and he sighed in relief when the pressure on his hard shaft relented, the sound turning into a desperate cry when the first ropes of semen burst from his body. He groaned. He always came copiously and shot wide, the jets splattering all over his chest, some droplets even reaching his chin. She was still rubbing his cock with her firm, no-nonsense grip, making him give all he had, and he almost lost consciousness with pleasure when she started to lick his seed from his chin, alternating it with deep, open-mouthed kisses that made him taste himself.

When he was finished, everything was wet and sticky, and he let his head sink against the backrest, trembling all over.

He was so far gone that he hardly noticed that Lisbon slid from his lap until she knelt in front of him, and when he felt her lips on his still semi-hard cock, he cried out in surprise.

"Lisbon, no! I'm an old man..."

She ignored his protest, and he groaned hoarsely when she let his shaft slide down her throat.

Belying his words, he immediately grew rock-hard in her mouth, the sensation almost too acute to bear, his stomach muscles clenching in anticipation.

"Teresa, please..." he whimpered, "I want you, now! I need to be inside you, please."

That stopped her. She released him slowly, making him arch with the sinful movements of her tongue, and as soon as he was free he grabbed her, switching their positions so that she sat in front of him while he knelt between her spread legs.

He wanted her naked as fast as possible, had to force himself to control his movements, be as gentle and careful as possible. He had her squirming with desire in no time, and when he started folding her dress just to drive her insane with impatience she had enough and started to undress herself, carelessly tossing the underwear on the ground until nothing remained. He already knew that she wasn't ashamed about her nudity, and why should she? She was so beautiful his mouth watered with lust.

He watched her breathlessly while he removed his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, worried they would be in the way later.

Her nipples were rock hard , showing how much she wanted him, and when he let his fingers slide between her legs he found her so wet that it had to be more than just arousal.

"Did you already come for me," he whispered tenderly, "and I didn't even notice?"

She nodded softly, her lips slightly parted, he could smell her sweet breath. He leaned forward and kissed her luscious mouth, slowly, meticulously at first, before he let passion take his sanity and pushed his tongue between her lips with ruthless vigor, his hips instinctively mimicking the movements. She tasted like the first touch of sunlight after an endless winter, sweet and heady, her lips so small, plump and delicious beneath his he sucked at them like a starving man. She swallowed his groans, her fingers driving under his shirt, brushing over his skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

His erection throbbed as if he hadn't had a violent orgasm only minutes before, and when he felt her small hand wrap around it he cried out in agony. Lisbon rubbed over the taut skin, making him squirm with desperate arousal before her fingers slid down to his balls which drew tight in their need to shoot.

Jane grabbed her wrist and shoved her hand away before she would make him come again just like this, without him knowing the exquisite heat of her body.

He grabbed his cock and put the tip against her wet entrance, not yet pushing into her. He saw her eyes go wild and almost lost consciousness when her heat wrapped around him, her firm flesh, swollen with arousal, rubbing over the most sensitive spots on his body.

He grabbed her waist with both hands and started to slide into her.

Heaven, she was so tight. He needed considerable force to get in there, but she arched his body against his, urging him on, and he grabbed her thighs to spread them further while he opened her with sharp, rough thrusts, making her bounce under the impact, alternating the sharp jabs with long, gliding moves that finally brought him inside her to the hilt. His balls hit her buttocks and he was almost proud of his tiny princess for taking all of him, cushioning his whole length inside of her, her molten heat burning all around him.

He shuddered. Heat, wet, delicious heat, the merciless friction of her tight sheath- his breath seared his lungs, rough and panting, and he groaned when he pulled back slightly, only to push into her again, to savor the vise-like clasp of her sex some more.

He looked down and saw her clit swollen with need, so close to her entrance he would rub against it with every thrust. He smiled a cruel little smile. She would come as violently as he would.

He gave her a few tentative thrusts, all the time watching breathlessly how his shaft rubbed over her sensitive clit until she was squirming beneath him, sweat breaking out on her perfect skin.

"Patrick," she whispered, and her using his first name almost did him in, "harder- please!"

Who was he to deny her?

She pushed her fingers under his shirt, raking her nails over his stomach, making the muscles clench. It felt so good when she touched him, so good that he could touch her all he wanted, didn't have to restrain himself like he'd done for years. He leaned over and kissed her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth, gently using his teeth until she screamed with lust.

Her fingers almost tore his shirt at his shoulders in her clawing need to get closer, and Jane let his lips wander to her lips, delving into a deep, wet kiss before he started to thrust in earnest.

She felt so small beneath him, but she urged him on until he just couldn't hold back, hammering into her full force, his hips slapping against hers, pushing her upwards on the couch with every rough stroke.

He panted into her ear, the friction was mind-blowing, her searing hot walls rubbing nerves too sensitive for touching, and if he hadn't gritted his teeth he'd never have stopped screaming. It got even worse when she came, came so hard he could see her stomach muscles contract with the force of it, her cries of pleasure heightening his own arousal until he saw stars.

He increased his speed, thrusting hard all through her orgasm, prolonging her contractions until she shook from coming so much. Her hands clenched on his buttocks and he growled, every touch adding to his hunger for her, he felt his whole body coiling in his need to come.

He forced himself to hold back, just a little longer, knowing every additional thrust would drive her insane, and he gave what he had, his strokes hard and deep.

He lost it when she came again only minutes later, her contracting sex squeezing him like a vise, and his eyes rolled back into his head when he surrendered. The first spurt of his seed was much more explosive then when he'd come on his clothes earlier. It felt as if his essence were wrenched from him, every sharp jet like a wave, filling her up until it trickled down her buttocks. It excited him beyond words and made him come even harder, his stomach muscles clenching until it hurt.

He put his hands on her thighs and pushed, opening her wider, pulling out of her to spill some seed directly onto her clit before he pushed back inside, aroused enough to just resume thrusting. He couldn't believe what she did to him, she turned him into some kind of sex-crazed maniac, but he had waited so long that he just couldn't stop.

"Bed," he croaked and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He even managed a few firm strokes while he was walking, using his hands beneath her butt to guide her along his cock. He was almost as hard as he had been before his release, and Lisbon's greedy, passionate kisses gave him the rest. She sucked on his tongue as if she were starving for his taste, and he kissed her back with frenzied vigor.

He placed her on the mattress, careful not to slip out of her in the process, and when she gave him a naughty squeeze with her internal muscles, he roared like a wildcat.

xxxxxxxxxx

Don't stop, Lisbon thought frantically, just don't stop, please.

She'd come harder than she ever had before in her life, but he kept renewing the itch, making her hotter and hotter until she thought she would burst any minute. He put her legs over his shoulders and thrust at an enormous speed, she couldn't believe he simply continued after coming like he just had, but he didn't show the slightest signs of exhaustion, gently letting his fingertips brush over her calf while he fucked her so hard her teeth were chattering with excitement.

Her body was on fire, every little nerve ending tuned to him, and he could make her come as often as he wanted to, she surrendered willingly to the sweet lust coursing through her body, her sleek muscles already contracting around his cock again. He felt so huge it was almost painful, but she enjoyed every second, silently willing him not to stop. She exploded like a rocket, coming until she was sobbing from the power of her release, and still she wailed in disappointment when he pulled out of her, her traitorous body begging for more.

Jane pushed her legs from his shoulders and kissed her, his massive erection throbbing against her stomach, and she so wanted him to push back inside, make her come again, wanted him to fuck her until she couldn't move.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, making sweet little sounds of sheer pleasure, and for a moment she just sank into his kiss, playing with him, teasing his lips until he started to rub against her.

He broke the kiss then and pulled away, straightening until he knelt between her spread legs, smiling a wild smile at her.

He grabbed her and flipped her onto her stomach, making her gasp in surprise, the sound turning into a lustful groan when he slid his hands over her buttocks before he wrapped them around her waist and pulled her up on all fours. When she felt his cock nudge between her folds she all but melted for him, her body so hungry her swollen nipples hurt. She'd never felt this way, greedy, insatiable, her strong rational mind gone.

She never lost her mind. But this time she didn't seem to have a choice.

Jane slammed into her with a single, hard thrust, driving home to the hilt. He stretched her to the point of tearing, but she didn't care at all, the soft touch of pain felt too delicious, she pushed her backside against his hips while he was pounding into her at full speed.

Jane didn't take prisoners, he aimed to explode inside her as fast as possible, but since he'd already come twice he could go on for quite some time, while Lisbon came almost immediately and continued to do so during his whole onslaught.

The orgasms he triggered were enormous, every single one of them, wrecking her body like an earthquake, getting even bigger every time she felt his hard shaft grate over hyper-sensitive tissue, and he never relented one bit.

She heard his panting breath, felt the bruising grip of his hands on her hips, and everything added to the mind-blowing storm deep inside her. Jane took her so hard she almost passed out after coming several times, her inner muscles still contracting, her small frame battered by the rough strokes of his hard cock inside her.

More, she thought, please more, please , please, please...

Jane pulled out of her, but before she could voice her protest, he had turned her around and pulled her onto his lap, pushing into her once more. He used his hands beneath her buttocks to guide her up and down his shaft, thrusting into her at the same time. The base of his cock rubbed against her clit with every thrust, and she thought she would lose her mind when she came again, clutching at his shoulders in nameless frenzy.

She felt it the exact second he surrendered and started to ejaculate inside of her, his whole body became rigid in her embrace, and he gave a mighty roar before she felt his heat flood her core in large, powerful spurts. She held him through his convulsions, his frame shaking against hers while he ejaculated copiously, his arms like iron bands around her as if he never wanted to let go again.

They tumbled onto the sheets when he was done, Jane shivering with exhaustion. Despite his tiredness he groaned in protest when he finally slid out of her, and Lisbon smiled.

She kissed him, playfully and full of tenderness, and when he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she deepened the kiss with sweet abandon.

He sighed when she broke the kiss, closing his eyes in bliss.

Lisbon let her gaze wander over his body.

She saw that there were traces of semen on his still semi-hard shaft, and she started to lick her lips in hunger at the thought of tasting...

"Don't even think of it, woman!" Jane growled and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her action in advance, "You do some strange things to me. If you put your tongue down there now, I'll be going at it like a rabbit until the morning hours. Do you want that?"

"In fact," she purred," that's EXACTLY what I want."

He growled at her.

"You little minx are INSATIABLE. Let me rest an hour or so, and we'll see about your request."

He made quick work of his shirt and vest, tossing them to the ground without caring where they landed, then lay down on his side, facing her.

He closed his eyes, and she just watched him for a while. He was beautiful beyond words, she might never be able to stop staring. She let her fingertips wander down the side of his neck, over his shoulder and biceps.

"REST, Lisbon," he moaned, "are you familiar with the concept?"

She sighed in disappointment, but took her hand away.

It was silent for some minutes.

"If I can't put my tongue down there," she whispered eventually, "can I put it into your mouth?"

He didn't respond for quite a while before he opened his eyes and sighed.

"Proceed."

And she did.

xxxxxxxxxx

When Lisbon woke up, Jane's face was only inches from hers, his arm wrapped around her middle. He looked so calm and peaceful that she just kept staring some more, gently brushing her fingers over his thoroughly disheveled hair.

"Do you want to get up?" She whispered into his ear.

"Hmmmm," he grunted back.

Didn't look like it. She gave him a short kiss on the lips, tousled his hair tenderly and rolled out of bed.

She entered the living room stark naked, which felt strangely glorious. She looked out of the window and suddenly didn't find the huge amount of snow threatening any longer. She was as happy as she'd ever been, and she would enjoy it with every sense she owned.

The whole world looked pure, soft, at peace.

She sighed and turned to walk to the bathroom when her eyes fell on a tiny box under the tree, wrapped in silver paper. She picked it up to take a closer look.

"For Teresa" was written on the paper in Jane's handwriting. She carefully started to unwrap the box. When she opened the lid, she found a golden ring fastened to a delicate golden chain- not long enough to fit around her neck, not short enough for her wrist, so obviously an ankle bracelet. She looked inside the ring and found an engraving: "Yours forever".

Tears sprang to her eyes. They had engraved their gifts with exactly the same promise. Her hands trembled, and the magnitude of it all was as close as it had ever been.

He'd opened the door, let her in. Dared to belong somewhere again, to burden himself with promises and the commitment to her.

Damn, she loved him. More than she'd ever loved anything else.

Jane's arms wrapped around her from behind as he pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder. He was as naked as she was, his hot skin warming her all over.

"I'll put it on your finger once Red John is caught, Teresa. I promise. I love you."

She turned her face to kiss him, and his taste was perfect, as it had been all night when he had woken her up again and again to make love to her, with so much passion as if he'd never had her before. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, igniting her senses into a greedy wildfire, and she felt a gush of arousal wet her thighs despite the fact that she was distinctly sore. She didn't care- she wanted him again, right now, and then again afterwards.

He broke the kiss with a soft smack and released her.

"I'm going to take a hot bath now. Feel free to join me anytime."

She smiled at him. She would, oh, how she would.

She threw a last glance out of the window and felt grateful and alive, her heart bursting with love and the strength to fight through everything that lay ahead, for the sake of Patrick Jane, the man she loved.

She was still scared. But at the same time a warm, all-encompassing peace settled inside her soul.

It was Christmas morning, and she felt at home. She was more grateful than words could say.

She touched the cross she wore around her neck.

_And His name shall be called _

_Wonderful, _

_Counsellor, _

_The Mighty God, _

_The Everlasting Father, _

_The Prince of Peace._

THE END

_See? If I had cut off after his "Because I love you", I would have been the cockblocker of all cockblockers, so I decided to give you the whole thing today. A friend of mine told me to "not let them out of that cabin before they have done it in every position possible"- well… I tried!_

_My friends, I wish you a WONDERFUL and PEACEFUL Christmas! The aria the last part is taken from out of Händel's "Messiah" has been constantly in my head while I wrote this story, it's my favorite, and I hope the Christmas spirit comes to all of you._

_I have written like mad between Christmas and New Year's Eve last year- maybe the same happens this time? See you soon, and:_

_MERRY CHRISTMAS!_


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